


[ bonnie & clyde ]

by YomiNoKura



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: F/M, Glaive Week
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-15
Updated: 2018-03-15
Packaged: 2019-03-31 21:07:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 701
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13983351
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/YomiNoKura/pseuds/YomiNoKura
Summary: Desperation rings out through him, and she can feel it. There was always no idea of what they were going to be seeing tomorrow, but something even haunts this Luche that Crowe cannot figure out.Glaive Week day 4.





	[ bonnie & clyde ]

**Author's Note:**

> messy messy
> 
> Got a request? Send it to my tumblr!
> 
> drewtanakaenthusiast.tumblr.com

_We’re sorry. Your call cannot be completed as dialed. Please check the number, and dial again._

Luche turns the stereo in the car down as Crowe is splayed out in the back seat, asleep. The two were on the run after the fall of Insomnia, succumbing to the excessive people with the scourge and the daemons entering the Wall. They didn’t know if any of their friends had escaped as well, but they couldn’t go back the way they were.

Not with Crowe like this.

It was fuzzy when she even caught the scourge, as two have been on the run for weeks, trying to make it to Altissia. But, the noteable patch of mottled skin on the back of Crowe’s neck had only grown as days kept flying by. _They were almost to Altissia._

Luche can only pray that the Oracle was actually there.

_Crowe_ dreams of other worlds that she lived in while he drives the two of them. Luche’s there with her.

“Why are you doing this?” is a phrase she keeps hearing herself utter, as flames lick her palms, swinging at unknown assailants before a gunshot is heard. 

She jolts up, in a cold sweat.

She doesn’t know if this is her descent into Hell at all. Blinking at Luche in the driver’s mirror, she moans at the headache that wrecks her head. “What the hell,” she murmurs, laying back down, not caring about the dreams that awaited her as Luche continues to drive.

She was kissing Luche now.

The lingering idea of importance of something else was irking her. Luche runs his hands around her back, hesitant before he pushes back passionately. Desperation rings out through him, and she can feel it. There was always no idea of what they were going to be seeing tomorrow, but something even haunts this Luche that Crowe cannot figure out.

_He will kill you._

The thought that pops in her head is one that has started since she’s picked up the Scourge. Crowe can’t say why it keeps showing up, but it continues to haunt her, almost corrupting her some days. Maybe he did kill her in those worlds, but her Luche cares for her. _Maybe._ Being driven onto the brink of madness is almost as bad as being insane by itself. The way Crowe thinks day by day gets more and more dangerous, as whatever these dreams are presenting her surround Luche.

Once they make to Altissia a few days later, Crowe lets her hair down to hide the mark of the Scourge. Luche reaches for her hand, almost desperate with the way he worries for her. Crowe buries her head in the space between his neck and left shoulder, allowing for herself to cry since this journey started.

“I know this is selfish to ask,” Crowe bows to the Oracle with pleading eyes, meeting the soft blue irises of Lunafreya. “But please, take the Scourge from me.” Lunafreya is almost confused until Crowe holds her hair up. The flesh is mottled black and purple, and Crowe is embarrassed to show another person other than Luche, but Lunafreya says nothing as she grants their request. 

“You are members of the Kingsglaive, correct?”

” _Were._ Once the king fell, our magic was gone. The two of us ran.” Luche nods, heaving a heavy sigh. “We followed a tip that you were here, and most possibly King Noctis.”

Lunafreya nods. Crowe is shaky, as the thoughts that have been haunting her for these last few weeks cease. Luche places a hand on her back, and she can only relax slowly. “We’re refugees, turned soldiers, then refugees again.” Crowe notes, scratching her neck out of habit.

“You are welcome to stay here, if you need it.” Lunafreya nods, and the two former Glaives in front of her nod.

“We owe you our lives, Majesty.”

Those Scourge-infected dreams and thoughts haunt Crowe. She doesn’t experience them anymore, but they weigh high on her mind as she lays next to Luche. Was it true? Why did he kill her in those dreams?

They’re never answered.

Crowe doesn’t care enough to question them. Tomorrow is too important to think about the dreams of last night.


End file.
